


This Matters

by suitesamba



Series: The "This" Series [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Times, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, recent John/Mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John finally talk.</p><p>This is Part 6 of "The 'This' Series." The series is based on the premise that Mrs. Hudson doesn't interrupt John and Sherlock with the client during stag night and things progress more ... naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Matters

“Are you happy in this relationship?” Sherlock asks John that evening.

He and John are at opposite ends of the sofa. John’s laptop is propped on his knees. He’s working on his blog – the “I’m not getting married after all” entry. By the look of disturbed concentration on his face, he is not finding it easy to craft the words. He looks comfortable, however, wearing the black and white striped jumper. This one fits John well, and exposes a nice bit of clavicle and a centimeter of his scar, but reminds Sherlock (uncomfortably) of a mime.

John had looked at Sherlock incredulously when Sherlock presented the box.

“Mary brought these over? Really? She kept them?”

Sherlock had just shrugged, wondering if the discomfort he was feeling could be jealousy. 

“Wait….” John had dropped the jumper he was holding (almost caressing) and narrowed his eyes. “You could have chucked them all in the bin and I’d never have known.”

Sherlock had been treated to a rather lovely kiss for that, pressed against the back of the bedroom door. He was getting much better at predicting what would spur these pleasant moments of physical contact, but frankly hadn’t seen this one coming. He was glad he’d resisted binning the awful jumper with the feather pattern around the neck – he’d made it to the alley with it bundled up under his arm before he’d changed his mind and, with an exaggerated sigh, trudged back up the stairs and dropped the abomination back in the box.

Now, on the sofa, John is staring at him. “Relationship?” he asks, in response to Sherlock’s question. His laptop is cockeyed on his lap, resting at a forty-five degree angle between his thigh and the sofa cushion. He seems to have forgotten its presence. He wets his lips, opens his mouth, presses it closed again and simply regards Sherlock with what now seems to be an almost clinical interest.

He waits for Sherlock to speak.

“I’ve Googled it,” answers Sherlock, somewhat testily. “Oxford dictionary – “The way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected.”

John nods. He’s adjusted the laptop and looks interested – and somewhat amused. “Right. That’s it.”

“There are further clarifications, of course,” continued Sherlock, looking from John’s eyes to the place where the thin jumper had pulled back to expose more of the scarred shoulder. “The state of being connected by blood or marriage.”

John shakes his head. “Not us, then.” He purses his mouth, as if he wants to say something else but doesn’t.

“Perhaps this one then?” continues Sherlock. He’s glad, now, of his perfect recall. “The way in which two or more people or organizations regard and behave toward each other.”

“Ah.” John smiles. “Yes. That one.”

But Sherlock is shaking his head. He feels the corner of his mouth lift a bit, of its own volition. “One more.”

He waits for John’s full attention. 

“We’re talking about us, you realize,” John says. He glances down at his laptop and Sherlock has an “Ah ha” moment. His hand darts out and he pulls the laptop off John’s lap and twirls it around so he can read it. John shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Satisfied?” he asks after Sherlock quickly reads the unposted blog entry and slides the laptop over to the table. 

“Definition number three,” Sherlock states quickly. He’s slightly out of breath and puzzled about that. “An emotional and sexual association between two people.” 

John glances at his laptop then back at Sherlock. 

“Yes,” he says.

“Yes?” Sherlock frowns. He sincerely hopes John does not think he is proposing marriage. 

“I’m happy. In this _relationship._ ” He’s still sitting on the end of the sofa, socked feet up on it, facing Sherlock. He presses the toes of one foot against Sherlock’s thigh. His second toe protrudes from a hole in the sock. “And I won’t publish that blog entry until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now,” says Sherlock at once. He’s thinking of Mary, of her certainly that Sherlock will bollox the whole thing up. He is unaccustomed to this feeling. It makes him tense, anxious. He dislikes feeling this way.

“Ahh,” says John. He presses his lips together, rubs his mouth, looks up at the ceiling. “And this has nothing to do with Mary’s visit today?”

“This has everything to do with Mary’s visit today,” Sherlock corrects. “Everything.”

John reaches for Sherlock’s hand and pulls him forward, and for the first time that day, Sherlock stops thinking about jumpers and about Mary, and names for things don’t matter, and Oxford Dictionary definitions of those names matter even less. 

John matters. Solid, real, John wearing the black and white striped jumper and the sock with a hole in the toe and telling the world through his blog that he loves Sherlock Holmes.

Relationship, Mary had said. _How much he fancies you._

And the Oxford had called it an _association_.

But John had pushed right through all the perfectly acceptable euphemisms, ignored the wealth of descriptive words offered by the rich English language (and the Oxford on-line Dictionary), and stated – simply, eloquently, that he couldn’t marry one person when he was, in fact, in love with someone else.

In love.

He’ll not look up love in the Oxford on-line. His mind palace is expansive, but he knows he’d need an entire new wing for that word alone.

Sherlock’s not sure he deserves John’s love, but worthy or not, he accepts it, and returns it, perhaps not in words, but in the light caress of fingers over a war-torn shoulder, and in comfortable jumpers that have seen better days.


End file.
